Bad Habits | Chapter 8 | The Proposal (Patreon)

[Content Warning: This story will include SSBHM weight gain, queer sex, messy eating, drug use, romanticizing abusive relationships, immobility, and extreme obesity related health issues.]

Bad Habits

Chapter 8: The Proposal

      The cool evening air is a relief to Oliver. The bigger he gets, the harder it is to get around and the more he sweats. Even more challenging to his problem with overheating is that Dylan bought him new clothes by guessing his measurements and made him dress up. The shirt clings to his fat body, barely holding together at the buttons. The dress pants have just enough elastic to give him room to expand. He’s not used to wearing a dress shirt or belt. The last time he dressed up was the homecoming celebration during his senior year. 

     He still can’t believe he agreed to a night out on the town with his boyfriend. He’d much rather be completely naked in bed trying to see over his belly to jerk off or being stuffed from both ends in another panic-attack-inducing-sexscapade. He virtually hadn’t left the apartment in over a month again. Why should he when Dylan bring him all of the food and weed he wants? Most of his days are spent on the couch, eating mindlessly due to his marijuana consumption.

     Oliver pulls the enormous golden knob of the restaurant’s door to enter the fancy Italian restaurant. He looks around and notices that most people there are incredibly thin and in business attire. The floors are lined with thousand dollar rugs, the walls have crown molding, and several crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling. He feels out of place. The door opens behind him while he takes the extravagance in, the same wealthy aesthetic he used to know from his parents. He feels the breeze and looks behind him afraid he’s taking up too much space with his new gains. Fortunately, it’s just Dylan in a suit with a red tie.

    “Have you waited long for your Prince Charming?” Dylan nudges Oliver.

      “No, I just got here myself. I’m better now you’re here,” he says shyly. He’s become more agoraphobic with every fat related restriction that triggers him: situations involving his parents, his old friend, his inability to fit in cars, and now the gym. The only way he copes with the trauma now are food and Dylan. He’s not sure which is most important now. 

     Dylan confidently walks up to the host area and presents his name. Oliver follows behind Dylan before the hostess asks “table or booth?”

     “Do I look like I can fit in a booth?” huffs Oliver. She looks at him before apologizing. Oliver zones out like usual. He follows Dylan and the Hostess to an empty table with two chairs. One has an arm rest, while the other doesn’t to accommodate Oliver’s girth. They sit down as the Hostess hands them menus and then leaves.

     “Dylan, this is really fancy. I’m sure it’s too expensive. We shouldn’t be here.”

     “Oliver, please let me just give you a nice evening. You deserve the world. I know you love pasta and I’m fine with this costing a pretty penne.”

     Oliver rolls his eyes at the awful pun  and grins. “I love you, dork. Just please don’t let me buy several expensive meals. I get one and then maybe something cheap at Lard Have Mercy on the way home.”

     “Are you sure? I can totally buy you several entrees.”

     “Promise me you won’t spend a ton of money. Just one meal for now.”

“Fine,” Dylan reluctantly agrees. 

     A slim man in a white dress shirt and black dress pants walks up to the table. “Good evening. Thank you for dining with us this evening. I’m Kazin and I’ll be your waiter. Can I get you started with some drinks and an appetizer?”

     “I’ll take a water,” responds Dylan. 

     He glances at Oliver, who looks at the drink menu and licks his lips. The waiter thinks the wrong person is ordering the water. “What flavor of Italian cream sodas do you have?”

      “Oh, uhm, we have a cherry, orange, or vanilla Italian cream sodas. It comes in an extra large souvenir glass,” Kazin rattles off.

     “I’ll take... vanilla?” questions Oliver. He really wants to try all of them, but vanilla is probably the best when it comes to pasta. He imagines it’ll be the most like root beer of the three flavors. 

     Oliver’s tummy growls. He is hungry all the time. The sensors in his brain that tell him he's full don’t work well anymore. He eats until he’s sick, but even then if he can get comfortable for fifteen minutes, he becomes ravenous again. His stomach is a bottomless pit and Dylan couldn’t be more thrilled that Oliver’s lack of control spirals more with every pound.

     “My poor baby. I just heard your tummy,” he pouts at Oliver. He turns to the waiter and asks “can we get two fried ravioli platters?”

     “Absolutely. I’ll put your appetizers in and go get your drinks,” scribbles the waiter before walking away. 

     “What’s daddy buying his big sexy boy tonight?” 

      Oliver blushes. Usually that kind of talk is saved for the bedroom, but the public and private start to blur over the course of their relationship. “Everything on the menu sounds delicious. I’m starving. It’ll be a very difficult decision,” whines Oliver.

     “Well, what sounds good, baby boy?” asks Dylan as he continues to examine the menu.

     “The rich meat sauce pasta, baked lasagna, the chicken picatta,” replies Oliver. Dylan smiles at Oliver in adoration of how Oliver struggles to make a decision about what he wants to stuff in his oversized stomach. He almost wishes he doesn’t have to make Oliver choose between all of the meals, but that’s what his blubbery boyfriend wants. 

     Kazin comes back with their drinks. He places the ice water on front of Dylan and the Italian cream soda in front of Oliver. The soda foams to the top of the 32oz glass. The glass has a red, white, and green stripe around its edges. “Have you decided on an entree?”

     “I think I’m going to take the spaghetti Vesuvius. The spicy sauce and green peppers are really enticing,” announces Dylan. 

     “It’s such a hard decision, but I want the Mizithra cheese and brown butter pasta. Can I get extra butter and cheese on that?”

     The waiter looks at Oliver and blinks. It’s very clear why Oliver is so large. That dish already clocks in at 1350 calories with the 480 calorie soda. That doesn’t even count  the bread loaf, the soup or salad, or 760 calorie dessert that comes with the meal. How could he want extra butter and cheese? “I, uh...” the waiter pauses before agreeing to his request. 

     “I’ll bring you out a loaf of our herb and cheese bread. You also get soup or salad. Today we have a fresh house salad or a hearty minestrone soup.” The waiter guesses correctly. Oliver orders the soup. His hunk of a boyfriend orders a salad. Kazin leaves and comes back with the soup, salad, bread, and fried ravioli. 

     Oliver can’t control himself and reaches for the deep fried morsels shoving several into his mouth. Cheese explodes in his mouth and the excess strings of melted goodness ends up on his chin. Dylan puts his napkin in his lap, hoping it will make his erection less noticeable. He gets so excited when Oliver acts like an out of control pig, especially in public. Oliver doesn’t take the time to savor any flavors. 

     Dylan cuts the loaf of bread into sections. He takes a quarter of the bread and gives the remaining three quarters to his lard ass boyfriend, knowing he really needs the carbs. Dylan starts to eat his salad. Oliver takes the enormous portion of bread and rips into it with his pudgy hands causing crumbs to fall on the table and his lap. The shreds make it into his soup bowl. The waiter notices and bring another loaf of bread to the table for Oliver.

     The juxtaposition of the two men must look strange to any outsider. The positive attention always goes to Dylan. He’s seen as eating clean vegetables and drinking water contributing to his fit physique. Every move he makes is being polite and eating to live. Beside him is a whale of a man who moans and heavily grunts while he shoves grotesque amounts of deep fried cheese and ladles huge spoonfuls of soup in his mouth. Oliver’s belt cut his enormous, overhanging belly fat before the meal started. Now the belt digging into his skin is unbearable. He readjusts the belt to allow the most room it can. The first notch is still straining against his enormous gut.

     That is until Oliver notices a grossly heavy man. He probably has one hundred pounds on Oliver and is wearing a very similar shirt. Oliver gets suspicious as the corpulent man waddles toward him. He eyes down Oliver and Dylan before stopping behind Dylan’s chair.

     “Dylan, is that you?” asks the immense stranger with his heavy breathing.

     Dylan turns around quickly. He recognizes the figure with some shock. “Dan? My goodness Dan! I haven’t seen you in years. I didn’t know you were in town!” exclaims Dylan. Oliver becomes even more suspicious. In the course of their relationship Dylan never mentioned anyone named Dan. Oliver can’t remember anyone like Dan from their high school. 

      “Tonight is my last night in town for a conference. My hotel is connected to the convention center in front of this restaurant. I thought this would be a fun place to try with it being so close and all. Work is paying for my dinner and boy can I eat,” says Dan in his matter-of-fact tone.

      Oliver knows Dylan should be polite, but the situation seems strange to him. This random stranger didn’t even introduce himself. Then, Dylan says it. “Well, you’re looking good big guy! How much do you weigh now?”

      A sinking feeling occurs in Oliver’s heart. Why would Dylan compliment Dan on his weight gain?  “You won’t even believe it. I somehow just hit 653 pounds this week. All thanks to you and I can’t wait to be bigger. I can’t even remember the last time we hung out. We need to change that.” The number Dan gives would have been more impressive if Oliver wasn’t getting angrier with every sentence exchanged between the two.

     “Next time you’re in town for a conference we should grab a beer,” Dylan says politely. Oliver inhales the rest of the fried ravioli to hide his jealousy. 

     “Well, I mean I am still single, in case you were wondering,” Dan emphasizes to Dylan.

     Oliver’s face turns red. Rage boils in the pit of his stomach. For the first time in the conversation Dan acknowledges Oliver’s existence at the table. 

     “I’m sorry. I totally interrupted your dinner. I’m Dan. What’s your name?” asks Dan.

     “I’m Oliver, Dylan’s boyfriend of almost two and a half years now, officially,” spits Oliver. 

     Dan feels the tension and realizes he is stepping on Oliver’s toes. “It’s very nice to meet you, Oliver. I won’t interrupt you anymore this evening. Thanks for your time. Also, he’s a keeper: A real dream man. Consider yourself lucky, Oliver,” he finishes before waddling away, panting with each step.

     Once Dan is out of earshot, Oliver frowns and whispers in anger to Dylan. “Let me guess. You fed him that big and fucked him.”

      “That was a long time ago. I haven’t seen him since I moved back. I’ve been faithful to you this entire time. I met him back in college at the cafeteria one day. We had one night of fun while high and then flirted for awhile before we lost touch”

      “You mean flirting like you just fucking did right there?” Oliver’s hands shake furiously on the table.

      “It was a one time thing in my past. It’ll never happen again,” Dylan tries to assure his boyfriend.

      “Are you sure that’s it? You don’t have feelings for him still?” Oliver asks with skepticism.

     “Don’t be jealous. I love you, Ollie-pop!”

      Oliver shoves the giant piece of bread the waiter brought in his mouth with anger. He tries to speak through the bread “you think it’s funny when I’m mad. You just love getting under my skin.”

      “I promise, Oliver. He’s just a friend now. Actually, no, he’s just an acquaintance. I don’t love him. It was just some fun in college. Please believe me. He means nothing more to me than Duncan meant to you. Granted, I’m not sure what happened with Duncan,” Dylan pleads. Oliver remembers at one point he told him an old friend named Duncan tried to hit on him right when he first started dating Dylan. It meant nothing. There was nothing note-worthy that happened, so why is Dylan bringing this up out of nowhere? Was he guilty of doing more with Dan?

     “I’m losing the game we’re always  playing. You want him because he’s bigger and emotionally stable. It’s obvious,” says Oliver while swallowing with tears welling in his eyes. He tries to fight his emotional response by taking a large gulp of soda.

      “Do you think we would be here tonight if I didn’t want you?” asks Dylan grabbing Oliver’s plump hand and stroking it with his thumb.

      “I-I guess not,” Oliver mumbles back through another mouth full of bread, holding back tears.

      “Good.   I love you so much, Oliver. Yet, I can’t help but admit it’s so cute when you’re over dramatic and upset, using food to cope with your emotions,” Dylan teases back. 

      The waiter saves the evening by bringing the main courses to the table and setting them down in front of the pair before leaving again. Despite how much Oliver just ate in appetizers, his emotions continue to take over his appetite. He grabs his fork and twirls it with purpose. Once he has a sufficient amount of pasta entwined with the fork’s prongs, he takes a huge bite and moans slightly. Oliver  sloppily shovels entire forks full of pasta into his greedy mouth while Dylan eats with elegance and precision. 

      “This meal is, like, tortellini awesome,” jokes Dylan before taking a sip of his water. 

      Oliver twirls his pasta again. “Can I ask you a few questions?” he inquires of his boyfriend. The fork in Dylan’s hand stops and he nods. 

     “Life is exploring pasta-bilities, Oliver.”

     “I cannoli shake my head at you for that joke. Now please, no more pasta puns. I’ve got something serious to ask,” says Oliver. 

     “Sure, ask me whatever you want,” he says with curiosity.

     “I want to feel like I’m contributing. I want to show the world how sexy I am. Would you be opposed to me trying to make some money off my gaining? I’ll only show or do what you’re comfortable with though!”

     “What did you have in mind?”

     “You know, Patreon exclusives, OnlyFans videos, a chaser monetizing my videos on a superchub Clips4Sale site. I don’t care, as long as I can show off my body with confidence and maybe make just a little extra. Just to help out on expenses in case mom and dad cut me off because they are disgusted at my size.”

     Dylan looks at him in thought. The ten seconds he takes to respond is agonizing to Oliver. “You’ve come a very long way, baby. You used to be concerned about your weight. You were so unsure you wanted to be fat. Now you’re putting on weight as fast as you can. It’s truly an act of rebellion and courage against unrealistic body standards. You still get anxious, but that’s okay. I just want you to know I’m so proud of you and here to help you with your endeavors to continue to grow or even try to use your body as a side hustle. I’m not concerned about money, but I’m completely on board for whatever makes you feel good,” offers  Dylan in support of his superchub. Oliver sighs in relief to hear that he has Dylan’s blessing. 

     Piles of spaghetti leave their plates bite by bite. Oliver’s shirt gets tighter and tighter throughout the meal. They make small talk for about thirty minutes before Kazin comes back with a check and asks them if they would like their dessert. Dylan requests the dessert to go, which surprises Oliver. Kazin gets the check settled and leaves the merchant copy for Dylan to sign and a bag of to-go cheesecake slices. He pouts a little while finishing his final bites of spaghetti in rich meat sauce because he wants dessert now. Why would Dylan make him wait? 

     Oliver slurps his final noodle while relaxing his gut. Pow! Two white buttons fly off the seam of his dress shirt. One of the buttons is forceful enough it hits Dylan’s hand and he drops the pen while startled. Oliver’s belly spills forward out of the crater left of the front of his shirt.

     “Fuck, that’s hot. Do you want me to rip your clothes off and bend you over the table right here?” growls Dylan. Oliver pushes out his stomach in response. Dylan picks up the black pen he dropped, writes a tip in the receipt line, and scribbles his signature mindlessly.

     “Let’s go, then,” Dylan winks. 

     Dylan is the first to get up so he can move to his boyfriend’s seat to help him up. Oliver struggles to scoot back in his chair and get up. Dylan’s warm hands end up on Oliver’s plump hands. He grabs and pulls helping Oliver up. Then, the pair move toward the door with the bag of cheesecake slices. 

     A cool breeze makes its way down the street. Oliver notices Dylan stays in place instead of walking on the sidewalk. “Is everything okay?” Oliver asks Dylan with confusion.

     Dylan looks up at the enormous wall clock hanging from one of the buildings. “9 pm, right on time,” says Dylan. Oliver looks at him with confusion as they both hear a strange noise hit the pavement. Oliver looks to the left to see the noise is uneven clip-clops of two horse pulling a white carriage to the restaurant’s entrance.

     The man driving the carriage stops the horses in front of them. “You didn’t, Dilly!” Oliver practically shouts in excitement. I’ve always been curious seeing the carriage rides when I used to come downtown with my parents as a child. They told me it was a tourist trap and wouldn’t pay for a carriage ride.”

     The carriage driver hops off the front of the carriage and opens the door for them both. Oliver struggles to get in, huffing from the elevation and his sides hitting against the door frame. He maneuvers himself awkwardly, squeezing through the narrow frame and taking much of the space inside the carriage. 

     “You’re almost too big for this. I just wanted you to experience it once,” says Dylan getting in beside Oliver. He’s squeezed between Oliver’s folds of fat and the side of the carriage. He has just enough room to take the cheesecake out of the bag. He opens the container and digs into the cheesecake with the fork before bringing it up to Oliver’s plump lips. 

     Oliver takes the romantic gesture by tugging the cheesecake off the fork with his mouth and licking the utensil clean. Every time Oliver gets finished with a bite, Dylan is there to give his lover more. 

     “You know, before you came back to town, I was sneaking off to clubs with other queer kids looking for sugar daddies. I really only wanted you. If only you had been feeding me in high school I could be 1000lbs by now,” Oliver teases while swallowing the creamy substance. 

     Dylan pauses before speaking. “Ollie, I wish I had the courage to tell you I loved you in high school. I’m not wasting anymore time without you. Now it’s my turn of the night to ask a question that makes me nervous,” says Dylan. Oliver looks at him in a lustful, but confused daze. “I love you. I love you more than I thought it was possible to love anyone. You’ve sacrificed family ties, friendship, and any hope to have a thin waistline ever again just to please me. We’ve been through a lot together. I can be myself around you because you see the best in me. I love spending time with you and I want to take care of you for the rest of my life.” 

     A petite black box materializes from Dylan’s dress pants pocket. The box flips open with a flick of his thumb to reveal a black ring with a thin, metallic rainbow line in the center. Dylan then pops the big question: “will you marry me?”

     Oliver grins at his boyfriend. “This is so sudden. You’re sure you want to marry someone so big and dramatic? This isn’t just a fetish for you?”

     “I’m being serious. I didn’t know what I wanted when we first started hooking up. I’ve thought about it and I want you. You’re more than a fetish. I like that you’re fat, but if it was the right decision for you I’d still love you thin.”

     “Then, yes. Yes! I can't think of anything I want to do more than spend the rest of my life with you and get fatter for you." He looks at the ring on his finger and then  Dylan pulls Oliver into a kiss. 

     “I guess that means you’ll be going down the aisle in a mobility scooter because you’re too big to walk on your own,” Dylan says after breaking the kiss. Dylan’s words shouldn’t have made him as horny as it did. 

     “I will be if you keep feeding me like this,” Oliver says with excitement. Dylan gets out his cheesecake to give to his one and only.